"There is a storm coming up," was my reply. "Hear the thunder?"
"What of it?"
"What of it? A storm means water, and water means something to drink!"
"Hooray! so it does!"
And the cabin boy jumped to his feet at once.
It is wonderful what life the prospect of rain put into us. Eagerly we watched the approach of the dark clouds that were fast bearing down upon us.
"We must fix the cask to hold water," I said, "and also the canvas."
"And we can fix the sail, too," added Phil. "We must catch as much as possible."
I put the bung back into the cask, hammering it in well. Then by the aid of the mast, rudder and boom, we hung the canvas so that every drop that might fall upon it would be caught and poured into the cask.
Hardly had we finished our preparations when the storm bore down upon us. The lightning was terrific, the thunder deafening, and the rain came down in a deluge.